Adeste Fideles
by Fixomnia Scribble
Summary: Eddie and Jamie's first Midnight Mass as a couple. Sweetness and light abound and nobody dies. Merry Christmas, everyone.


"I'd feel weird sitting there while you all went up," Eddie admits.

It's been eating at her all evening, since the topic of Midnight Mass came up over dinner. Or, to be more precise, the public symbolism of not taking Communion with all the Reagans, if she joins them for the service.

"I'd sit with you," Jamie says. "Not leaving you alone is more important than missing one Communion."

"But missing Communion at Midnight Mass? Isn't that, like, one of the sacraments or something?"

She looks up, and hands him the big glass baking dish she's been rinsing, as they stand side by side at the big double sink. He takes it from her in his towelled hands, their rhythm unbroken. She likes washing because her hands are often cold; he likes drying because he doesn't get his shirts as wet. It works. Though she's not averse to getting him accidentally damp, since he'll just strip down to his skin and keep working, and then she can warm her hands on _him_ after.

But not here.

It's the day before Christmas Eve. Henry retired upstairs early, soon after dinner, and the rest of the family are trying to keep the lower floor at a dull roar so he can rest. There's a fairly muted Checkers war brewing between Jack and Sean in the living room, and Erin and Danny are frankly off their faces and misty-eyed on single-malt, listening to 1970's Christmas albums on vinyl. It turns out Erin and Nana Mouskouri make a surprisingly harmonious duo. Nicky and Frank are in shut away in his office with some last-minute schemes going on.

It's Jamie and Eddie's turn on dishes, but they've closed the kitchen door, which by longstanding family tradition means that they want to talk alone.

"Not really," he says. "Easter is the big one that we're all supposed to go to. Anyway – " he bumps her hip with his, and she catches something very wicked at the corner of his mouth, "I can always go sin big sometime in the next twenty-four hours and conveniently forget to go to Confession before church. Then I'd be out of grace anyway, and I'd be sitting in the pew with you and all the other sinners."

She smirks, but rolls her eyes. Jamie's interpretation of sinning has had the family priests smiling gently into their sleeves since he was a child. "Which means you couldn't go to Communion?"

"Receive Communion," he corrects. "Yes."

"It's almost like…" she begins, and stills her hands, "Don't take this the wrong way. Every religion has its rules. But some of these things sound like the rules of some really deep philosophical _game_ , not rules for living by."

"Oh, I don't disagree," he says. "Do the sacraments in this order, recite these prayers in that order, pay for your sins with this much penance. It's what theologians call the legalistic part of the faith. We prefer to focus on the humanistic around here. You notice we're pretty lax about the details."

"You mean like nobody even mentioning us living in sin, but just asking if we need any stuff?"

Amused, he watches her attacking a smear of greasy, burned-on dripping with more vigor than she probably needs. "Yeah, or using Fridays as an excuse to binge on fish and chips, not because we actually believe fish aren't meat."

"So if I do come, and they call people up to receive Communion," she continues, "and I go up anyway, what happens to me?"

"Well, Paul in Corinthians is pretty pointed about it damning your soul to eternal Hell for profaning the body of Jesus."

She blinks. "Oh, is _that_ all. Okay, then."

It's funny, how her brain is so quick to accept to the idea of Hell, while her mental image of a Heavenly afterlife is hazy. Maybe life on Earth gives you more material to imagine the one than the other. Maybe it's just residual family guilt.

"But, I mean, in reality, if the priest doesn't know you, he'll usually ask if you've had a chance to go to Confession, and offer you a non-Eucharistic blessing if you're not sure where you stand."

"That's an option?"

"Definitely. In fact a lot of people just ask for a blessing. It's all pretty low-key. If we both went up, you could do that and I'd be right behind you, and nobody'd even know if they weren't watching."

"Ah." She turns the dish over in her soapy hands, inspecting it, and begins rinsing it off. "Well, if I won't be in the way or stick out like a sore non-Catholic thumb, then yes, I'd like to come."

She's trying to sound confident and eager, but his eyes go soft on hers, and she knows she's not fooling anyone. It's one thing to try to fit into their dinner-table traditions, as the one non-Reagan by blood remaining at the table. It's another to join them for one of the most meaningful religious celebrations of their faith, knowing she's absolutely not wired for Catholicism. She admires those who hold onto their faith in days like these. But if she's Christian at all, it's mostly a cultural Christianity, absorbed by osmosis. She tries not to hurt anyone and to treat people the way she wishes everyone would treat each other – admittedly, with a side of quick justice if she gets a shot.

But that also means that she hasn't got any Christmas traditions she can invite Jamie to join her in, and they've had a few talks already about needing to create their own. It's hard not to feel sometimes that she's being assimilated by a friendly Irish Borg at times, but she knows that's because of the contrast with her own family.

"You wouldn't be in the way at all, and you wouldn't stick out, if that's what's been getting to you," he says. "We're not into public shaming these days. And I would never be anything but proud to be with you, anywhere we go."

She leans into him and nuzzles into his shoulder for a moment. "Thank you for that. And for not laughing at me."

"I know it's a lot to try to make sense of. And a lot of it really doesn't make sense so much as demand a leap of faith, which…I admit I'm not up for, sometimes. Being Catholic is more like a really strong kind of glue that keeps us together as a family."

"I thought you were supposed to the priest in the family. Youngest son and everything."

"I did think about it. A fair bit, actually. I knew I'd be in it to help people and to keep looking for more answers, like any priest. But I also knew I couldn't go along with being told how to interpret scripture and history, and I couldn't go against my conscience and common sense. Holy Obedience and I would fall out within a week."

"So, it wasn't the celibacy thing?"

"Well, that too."

He's wearing his habitual bland expression, but his eyes glimmer deeply at her, and that wicked little twitch returns to his mouth.

* * *

Twenty four hours later, she's very glad she came. She had already decided to join them, but it was Henry who really sold her on it. He took the time to phone her, on the morning of Christmas Eve, and apologized for not inviting her directly.

"We've already forgotten there was a time you weren't with us," he said. "We need to not take you for granted. It would be all our pleasure if you would join us for Mass, if you like. And if you don't like, you're more than welcome to meet us back at the house for a nightcap after."

Henry makes her melt anyway, but there was no way she could deny such a sweet overture.

And besides, swishing up to the curb in the Escalade driven by Frank's detail is, she admits, a nice touch. She hadn't considered it, but there's a certain glamour to making a chauffeured appearance outside St. Angela's, all of them dressed in their Christmas best. Jamie exits first, and takes her hand as she steps out. Danny and the boys clamber out of the rear seats. The driver pulls away to sit in the parking lot at the rear, where he will keep the engine running as always.

They cluster together on the sidewalk, and Eddie takes in the gorgeous spectacle of the church, all lit up within and without. The building is a layered complex of old stonework and modern add-ons, and every window is twinkling with strands of lights, or spotlights picking out stained glass figures. The organist is rolling out some jovial hymns, and the greeters at the door are singing lustily along, swathed in scarves. It's the kind of thing she's heard about, but never been part of.

"Where's Erin and Nicky?" Danny grumbles, despite this. "It's freezing out here."

"Not far," Jack says. "Nicky texted a couple of minutes ago."

"Is Jack the Jerk coming this year?"

"Easy," Frank replies, with a look, "He's still Nicky's father. No, I don't think he's coming. Erin would have given fair warning."

Eddie feels Jamie's gloved hand tighten on hers, and she looks up to see a flash of something pass over his face.

"What?" she asks. She steps closer and nudges his arm, and he obligingly wraps her in his embrace, keeping the chill wind at bay.

"What Dad just said about fair warning," he murmurs, so only she can hear. His breath is warm in her hair, and his unusually intimate affection in public gives her the tingles. "There's another Catholic tradition you might like. Only if you want."

"What's that?"

"Reading the Banns."

"The what?"

"It's when couples announce their engagement to the congregation. It's not a requirement, but a lot still do it. The priest announces it sometime during the sermon."

She snuggles closer. "That sounds pretty special. I'd love it. But aren't we way too late to ask him? On a night like this?"

He ducks to rub her cold nose with his. "I don't know. I can ask. He and Dad go way back. It's not like it's the Bishop at St. Patrick's Cathedral, it's our own family church. Some of them know already, anyway. This is just more of an official thing."

"Okay, well – I guess we should try to find him…"

They've been all but whispering, but people seem to be more indulgent than annoyed. Attending Midnight Mass together is more romantic than she'd expected.

"We're here!" Nicky calls from behind them. She and Erin hurry down the sidewalk towards the assembled family, elegant and looking more like sisters than mother and daughter. "Let's go in."

"Yay," Sean says, unenthused, but still sporting a Santa hat at a rakish angle, his hands in the pockets of his overcoat.

Jamie squeezes her hand briefly, and leaving her with Erin and Nicky, catches up with his father. From behind them, she watches a hurried conference, and then Frank claps his youngest son on the shoulder and nods.

Eddie smiles to herself, and tries not to let her sister in law see as they walk up the stairs. If she's reading Jamie's back right, and if the priest agrees to slip in their announcement, it'll make a nice surprise for the others.

The greeters are _extremely_ pleased to meet her, beyond the duties of their role, and Eddie doesn't miss the maternal nod of approval they give Jamie as they pass in. She prods his side and rolls her eyes as he turns to her, and he chuckles under his breath. She's passed inspection, but she knows she's going to get a friendly inquisition after Mass

Inside the church, all is warm and glowing with golden light from a million tiny bulbs and the overhead chandeliers, and the candles lit along the sides and across the altar. It smells exactly like she thought it would, of beeswax and resinous incense and dust. A couple hundred people are waving and greeting each other as they settle into order. Families with small children arrange themselves strategically on the ends of the pews where they can make a quick exit for a hungry baby or fractious toddler. Service doesn't begin until nine p.m., after all.

 _That's where we'll be, maybe next year or the one after._

It hits her squarely in the gut, so strongly it takes her breath for a moment as she slides into the pew next to Jamie. He follows her gaze, and watches her face carefully.

Eddie's never really felt she belonged anywhere, not at a fundamental, basic level. The parent she thought she had the most in common with turned out to have lied to her for her entire childhood, and then told her it was out of love for her. She and her mother might as well have been from different planets, for all their painful, sometimes warped protection of each other. Joining the NYPD was certainly a way of finding a place to belong, but of course it's contingent on conformity and performance, as much as identifying deeply as a cop. She's had plenty of friends, but very, very few that she could ever trust with her whole self. Nobody like Jamie, until Jamie.

The thought of being a mom among all the other moms, and of everyone knowing her and accepting her _just as herself_ , is tugging on her heart in a way she wasn't expecting tonight. She thought she'd feel like an interloper, a hanger-on, but instead, she's witnessing a glimpse of her and Jamie's future.

She gets why church – this church – is so important to him, whatever his personal philosophy or individual conscience. The kind of warmth and acceptance she sees around her takes generations to cultivate, and letting it go would leave deep scars.

"Okay?" he murmurs, leaning in.

She reaches for his hand and presses it. "Very. Did your dad…"

Frank had disappeared after seeing them all seated, and she thinks she knows why.

"Yeah. He'll ask Father Markhum to speak for us. He thinks it'll probably be okay."

"Wow." She sits back. "This is all very real."

Jamie holds her gaze and smiles. "Yup."

Frank slides into the end of the pew and nods quickly at Jamie, as the service starts. Jamie relaxes, and turns his attention to finding the selections in the hymnal.

It's a lovely service, and the congregation is apparently packed with newcomers and gophers, those who appear for Christmas and Easter though they might disappear for the rest of the year. Everyone is made welcome. Eddie is surprised to find that she knows the melody of a couple of the hymns, as well as the more traditional carols they sing.

Of course she's as familiar with the Nativity story as anyone raised in America, but Father Markhum reads it aloud, and brings to life the mortal peril of a young couple desperate for shelter, any kind of shelter, and the resilience of the spirit. It's touching and more than a little political, and she sees why Jamie likes the guy. Markhum is his usual confessor and occasional mutual help when church and police business become entangled.

Markhum also has a flair for timing and delivery. After the Nativity story and the sermon that follows, the program lists another two hymns before the Eucharist. But Markhum holds up his hand just as the organist is about to begin, and instead of rising to their feet, everyone pauses and hushes.

"Before we continue with our joyful noises," he says, "I have an announcement that I hope will bring even more joy, now and in the future. One of our beloved and lifelong parishioners, Jameson Declan Reagan, wishes to formally announce his betrothal to his best friend and one-time NYPD partner, Edit Marie Janko. Jamie, Eddie: we all, and I personally, wish you a bright and blessed future together."

A pleased murmuring sweeps over the entire congregation, and a couple hundred pairs of eyes seek them out. Jamie holds her hand firmly and grins at Markham, and Eddie resists the urge to hide under the scrutiny. Nicky lets out a happy gasp, and Jack and Sean send her looks of genuine affection. Henry, sitting on her other side, beams and pats her other hand fondly. It couldn't be any clearer that the Reagans have already adopted her entirely, and anyone who has a problem with that will have to go through them.

The organist goes to work, and the last two hymns are sung, though Eddie has a choke in her throat that gets in the way.

It's not long before they, along with most of the congregation, are moving towards the altar for Communion. As Jamie had assured her, there are a fair number of celebrants still seated, and nobody seems to mind or take notes. There are so many reasons why a person might choose not to take Communion, or consider themselves not technically in a state of grace, that it doesn't bear speculation. It looks to Eddie as if a quarter of those standing are also there for a blessing instead of Communion. She sees them cross their arms over their chest instead of reaching out for a wafer, and Markhum is perfectly happy to offer a blessing instead.

He reaches out to shake both of their hand as they approach.

"I am so glad you wanted to make a formal announcement," he says, "It's not that common these days. You're welcome here any time, Officer Janko."

"Oh, it's Eddie, please," she tells him, "Thank you for finding the time. I know it's a big night."

"Yes, but it's a big night made up of a lot of small families," he says, "and that's what brings most of us here. Besides," he leans towards them, and drops his voice, "It's great for business. People love a romance. We'll catch up properly after the holidays, maybe talk pre-Cana counselling. Okay. In the Name of the Father, the Son and the Holy Ghost, serve this city in peace, and come home safe to each other."

" _Pre-Cana_?" she whispers, as they return to their seats. Jamie blows out a thoughtful breath.

"That'll be a whole other conversation, or several. It's basically marriage counselling for couples who want a church wedding. It's pretty solid, from what I hear, but it's also…very, _very_ Catholic. I mean, that's the whole point of it. Building Catholic families from the ground up."

"Ah," she says, and slides back in to her seat.

"Like I said, a whole other conversation. You thought the NYPD had a ton of red tape and policies to get anything done, well…"

"I'm getting that." She wraps an arm around his. "But if there's anything I'm absolutely certain of my faith in, it's us."

"Me too," he says simply.

* * *

"So what'd you think?" Nicky asks her, as they walk back to the cars.

"It was beautiful," Eddie says. "A lot that probably went over my head, but I loved the whole feel of it. And it was so nice of Father Markhum to make that announcement for us."

"You just snuck that in, huh?" Danny nudges Jamie's elbow, "No going back now."

Jamie shrugs. "That's kinda the point. Community accountability. Making it real."

"It's all gonna feel very real at breakfast in six hours," Sean mutters. "Maybe we can get up just a bit later this year?"

"You can. I'll be up with my stocking and a massive cup of coffee by six thirty," Nicky says. "Why don't you just stay at Grandpa's too? Then you can come down whenever, and not have to get dressed to go out."

"You know there's always room for you," Frank adds. He pauses with a hand on the car door. "Head count. Nicky, staying. Erin, going home. Danny, going home, I assume. Boys?"

"Staying," Sean says, surprisingly. "I'll come."

"Me too," says Jack.

"Then I'll stay, too," Danny decides. "At least we got plenty of clothes and stuff there still."

"We'll be over first thing," Jamie says, glancing at Eddie. "We hadn't planned on staying over anywhere."

"Same here," Erin says. "G'night, everyone." She gives Nicky a quick hug and continues on to her car.

"Okay, but next year, we should _all_ stay over," Nicky says. "Sean and Jack and I can even crash out in the living room, like we used to. Maybe Cousin Sophie, too."

"Is there even room for all of us on the floor still?" Jack wonders.

"We'll make room," Nicky says firmly, "Then Mom and Uncle Danny can have their old rooms, and Uncle Jamie and Aunt – "

Nicky's eyes fly to hers. There's a small silence as a sort of contagious spark of delight travels through them all. Eddie finds the choke in her throat returning at how natural her new name sounds, coming from Nicky.

 _"—and Aunt Eddie too."_


End file.
